


Three’s a Crowd

by Vita_S_West



Category: Endeavour (TV), Inspector Morse & Related Fandoms
Genre: Developing Friendships, Gen, Snow Storm, Stranded, misadventure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 15:09:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30124695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vita_S_West/pseuds/Vita_S_West
Summary: Through circumstances Max would prefer not to review, he finds himself preparing to spend the night snowed in at an abandoned cabin with Jim Strange and George Fancy.
Relationships: George Fancy & Jim Strange, Max DeBryn & Jim Strange
Comments: 10
Kudos: 8





	Three’s a Crowd

**Author's Note:**

> :)

“You know,” Fancy said, exiled to the corner and covered in ash and Max’s dirty looks, “it really is lucky that we found this cabin. Grubby and abandoned, or not, it’s only gotten blustier out there.”

He glanced out the darkened window, pelted by wind and fat snowflakes, and shuddered.

“Mm,” Max murmured to himself as he leaned over the fireplace. For the sake of Jim Strange, he pretended that this was not established information. In fact, if it _weren’t_ for Jim, he was certain he would have throttled the youngest man more than an hour ago. Their situation was hardly anyone’s fault but the satisfaction of blaming someone was an excellent balm to their situation's sense of helplessness.

“It’s the first bit of luck we’ve gotten all night,” Jim said. “I can’t believe we got hit with a detour and the heaviest snow storm the area’s seen in a decade in the same drive home.”

Fancy nodded vigorously at Jim.“And that our car to get stuck. It’s enough to make you think these leadership conferences are a bad idea.”   


“If you didn’t think that already,” Max said morosely before blowing onto the small speck of fire that finally chose to make an appearance.

“Oh, it’s coming now, Doc, it’s coming now!” Jim said, patting him on the shoulder.

“Good thing  _ you _ know how to start a fire,” Fancy mused. “I thought it would be easy.” 

Fancy had confidently offered to help before his exile. Max had thought this ready attitude must have come from experience, but after a prolonged failure, Fancy admitted to merely having  _ assumed _ he would have the ability rather than any actual ability. Having seen it on television a few times, he assumed that it would be intuitive. He had explained as much after many failed attempts. All he’d managed was to waste matches, to dirty himself and his clothes with ash and to irritate Max all the more.

“You reckon I could’ve died if I’d been out there alone?” Fancy asked, suddenly grim at the possibility.

“You’re not in much danger of dying now, matey,” Jim assured him. “And you’ll be warmer soon, you won’t have to wait long.”

“Yes, but these things, you know, death being so close and all, really makes you think.” Fancy’s eyes were wide, as if he suddenly had a world of possibilities and considerations that had never been on his mind before.

“Mm,” Max said, clearly indicating his wish that the conversation would end and end soon.

“Well, what about you, Doc,” Fancy said, adopting Jim’s nickname. “You’re surrounded by death all the time. And loads of other grim stuff.”

“Other grim stuff?” Max said, turning back to him, eyebrows raised.

“Well, you know,” Fancy said. “Morse.”

“Ah. Him.”

Max’s tone was clear. There was a dark irritation that had long bubbled to anger.

The simple syllables were enough to shock Fancy and his ruminations into silence. The crackle of the small flames climbing from paper to bits of kindling, barely audible over the howl of wind that pressed up the cabin’s wooden walls. The fire was finally starting in earnest and soon the cabin would be much warmer. Fancy exchanged a glance with Jim, one which Max easily caught, which gave him a darker expression still. Jim attempted to lighten the mood.

“Being an old weasel again, is he?” He spoke with half of a smile.

Max scoffed. “Why do you think I bothered to come to this awful seminar so far outside of Oxford?”

“Because Morse made you?” Fancy seemed shocked.

“No! To avoid him for the night!”

“Oh. Well couldn’t you have just told him to piss off?”

Max gave him an icy look. He didn’t suppose Fancy would get it. “That wouldn’t have—I needed to be busy. He always shows up late or unexpected or not at all and he expects me to have nothing better to do than sit around for him. Like I’m just waiting around for him to feel like showing up. I had to have other plans that he couldn’t interrupt.”

“Did he… notice?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“He was irksome. And dismissive.”

“He usually is. Well,” Fancy said unironically, “I have to say hanging out in a cabin in a snowstorm with Jim and I is probably less likely to drive you insane.”

There was a tense silence in which Max’s hand’s clenched, his brows furrowed and he considered Fancy’s pronouncement—that he was cold, wet and miserable and better off for it—but Jim let out a noise that sounded like a cough. Max’s eyes flashed to him and Jim gave him an innocent sort of look before losing himself to a laugh. Fancy joined, a loud and joyful sound, the kind of laugh that came from a man who jumped without looking. Max tried to keep up his glare, but felt an absurd giggle bubble up inside him too. To an extent, Fancy was right. It  _ had _ been the longest he’d gone without thinking Morse or his shenanigans.


End file.
